"Okay," Mr. Schuester said, addressing the half-asleep members of New Directions and their chaperones as they stood in the Amtrak parking lot in Toledo at four-thirty in the morning. "Last check, guys. Tickets? Bags? Spending money?"

Thirteen heads bobbed up and down as they yawned and rubbed the sleep from their eyes. "C'n we just get on th' train?" Finn asked tiredly. "I wanna go back t' sleep."

"I like the sound of that," Santana said, pulling her fleece blanket tighter around her shoulders and clutching a large travel mug to her chest. "I want sleep, and I want more coffee, and then I want more sleep."

"Let's get a move on, then," Carole said. She hefted her duffel bag over her shoulder and led the way through the door and into the station.

The ticket agent raised an eyebrow at their large group. "Going on a school trip?"

"New York," Rachel said, propping herself up against Finn to stay on her feet. "Singing competition."

"Have a good time," the agent said. She reached out a hand and said, "I need your tickets, kids." There was a rustling sound as everyone pulled their tickets from their bags or their pockets and passed them up to Carole, who handed them over to the agent. The agent processed them quickly and gave them back to Carole in a neat stack. "Enjoy your ride."

"Thanks." Carole, Mr. Schuester, and Rachel's dads shepherded them out to the waiting area so they could get their tickets back and prepare to board the train.

"I can't believe we're going to be stuck on a train for sixteen hours," Kurt grumped. He squeezed the large pillow he held wrapped in his arms and swayed on his feet, eyes mere slits against the light of the station.

"At least we don't have to transfer to a different train," Dave said, though in truth he felt much the same way.

"Do you all have your cards?" Carole asked Finn, Kurt and Dave. "Dave?"

"Yeah," Dave said, warmth suffusing his chest. Yesterday, after he'd finished up at the shop, Burt had pulled him aside and handed him a debit card with his name on it.

"It's yours," Burt had said. "I opened the account for you after you started working for me. You've earned every penny, and I want you to have it before you go on your trip."

"Good," she said as Finn and Kurt both mumbled tired affirmations. "Will, how long do we have?"

Mr. Schuester checked his watch. "About ten minutes before we can board. Take a load off, guys. Have a seat on the benches."

"If I sit I'm going to fall asleep," Quinn said. "If I fall asleep on my feet, hitting the floor will wake me up."

"Good plan," Mercedes said, hanging on to Puck's arm and yawning loudly.

Mike and Tina sat on the nearest bench together, passing a travel mug even larger than Santana's back and forth between them. "I want to be awake," Tina said. "I've never been on a train before. It sounds cool."

"Not really," Sam said. "It's a bigger, faster, cleaner bus. That's about it. Same weird passengers, same frequent stops."

"Way to spoil the fun," Santana said. "Killjoy."

"It's better than that," one of Rachel's dads said. Dave thought he was the one named Leroy, but he'd been too tired to keep their names straight when they'd introduced themselves at McKinley at three in the morning. "There's food, and a viewing car, and much more comfortable seats."

"That sounds nice," Brittany said. "Will it go straight to our hotel?"

"Only to Penn Station," Rachel's other dad, the one Dave thought was named Hiram, said. "But it's a short trip from there to the hotel in Queens."

"I want to be a queen," Brittany said.

"I don't," Santana said. "Can you imagine how boring that would be?" Brittany frowned thoughtfully, apparently attempting to imagine it, and Santana shook her head and wrapped half of her blanket around Brittany's shoulders so that they were cuddled up together underneath it. "Never mind, Brit. You'd be an awesome queen."

"I'd be totally awesome," Brittany agreed.

Kurt stumbled, and Dave automatically caught him, steadying him with an arm around his waist. "You doing okay?"

"Late night getting homework out of the way," Kurt said, leaning into him. "I'm just – ugh. Words can't accurately convey how tired I am."

"Same here," Rachel said. "I don't even remember what I wrote for the last half of my English essay. I just hope it's coherent."

"No homework talk," Artie said. "We're going to New York. Homework doesn't exist this weekend."

"Damn straight," Puck said. "This is strictly fun times."

"Excluding competing tomorrow," Quinn said.

"Better get some sleep on the train, then," Mike said. "There's no way we can perform if we're running that kind of sleep deficit."

Mercedes nodded. "Seriously, guys. Any of you try to wake me up, you're going to get hurt."

"Duly noted," Kurt said. Anything he was about to say further was cut off by the ticket agent announcing the arrival of their train on the loudspeaker.

"Time to go!" Mr. Schuester said brightly, with far too much energy than was decent before five a.m. "Everyone have their bags? Great!"

"There's something very wrong with him," Kurt said in an undertone as they followed along in his wake to the boarding platform. "Do you think he took vitamin D when he woke up?"

"Why would vitamin D make him that energetic?" Dave asked.

"It's something from last year," Kurt explained. "His ex-wife was the school nurse for a week. She gave us all extra strength Sudafed and told us it was vitamin D."

"Oh." Dave laughed. "Yeah, that could be it." They crowded onto the platform together, waiting for the doors to open. "So what do you want to do on Sunday?"

"You're not going to get it out of me," Kurt said. "Tired or not, I can withstand your interrogation."

"I'm curious, so sue me," Dave said.

Kurt just laughed into the collar of Dave's jacket. "If I haven't told you the last dozen times you've asked, why would you think that I'd tell you now?"

"Because you're dead on your feet and I'm trying to take advantage," Dave said.

"You're shameless," Kurt accused.

"Yup," Dave said.

The doors slid open and their group rushed to get inside, eager to find their seats. "We're upstairs and a car over," Mr. Berry Number One said, pointing toward the front of the train. It had been a stroke of genius on Rachel's dads' part to pool all their money before purchasing their tickets, and as a result their seats were all close together. They stopped for a brief moment to pull their bags closer to their bodies so as not to hit anyone and made their way up the stairs as quickly as possible.

Dave and Kurt dropped into their seats with identical sighs of relief. Kurt put his pillow between the window and his head and slumped against it, turning to the side and tucking his legs up beside him awkwardly. "Want the armrest up?" Dave asked.

Kurt nodded. "Please." Dave lifted the armrest and tugged Kurt's feet onto his lap, unfolding Kurt's legs from their cramped position.

"That better?"

"Much," Kurt said, flexing his feet and burying his head in his pillow.

Dave leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. He wasn't nearly as tired at Kurt, but another few hours of sleep would have been fantastic. Unfortunately, the large cup of coffee he'd drunk before heading to McKinley had had much more of an effect on him than it had on Kurt and Finn. Resigning himself to spending the next few hundred miles as the only one awake who wasn't an adult, he took his iPod from his pocket and slipped the earbuds in.

A few songs later, the train lurched forward and began moving smoothly. Kurt stirred and kicked Dave lightly in the thigh to get his attention. He turned the iPod off and looked over. "What's up?"

"Quinn," Kurt said.

"No, I'm Dave," he said, affecting a look of concern. "Are you okay?"

"No, I mean –" Kurt yawned and kicked his shoes off into the space at Dave's feet. "You should talk to her. About the letter."

"I don't want anyone else to know," Dave said. "You know that." He was still trying to wrap his head around the contents, let alone decide what to do. The idea of talking about it made him very uncomfortable.

"You should talk to her," Kurt said stubbornly. "She has a rather unique insight into this kind of situation."

"Yeah? How so?" Dave asked.

"How much of what happened to her last year do you know about?" Kurt asked.

Dave shrugged. "Quinn got pregnant and gave her kid up for adoption."

"Did you ever wonder how her parents took it?" At Dave's slow shake of his head, Kurt said again, "Talk to her. I think it could help."

"If you think so, then I guess it's worth a shot," Dave said reluctantly.

"I do," Kurt said, settling back against his pillow and closing his eyes. "You might want to do it now. It's early enough that the viewing car will probably be empty. It would give you some privacy."

"And it'd give you more space to sleep, right?" Dave asked.

Kurt smirked sleepily into his pillow. "There's that factor, too."

"I'll leave you to it then." Dave lifted Kurt's feet off his lap enough for him to slip out of his seat and set them back down. "I'll bring back breakfast in a few hours."

"Mm, wonderful."

Dave made his way up a few rows and stopped by Quinn's seat, where she was sitting and reading a novel with her head propped up on her hand. "Hey," he said quietly. "You awake enough to go out to the viewing car with me? I need to talk to you."

She stuck a bookmark in the open pages and set it at her feet. "Sure," she said in an equally soft voice. She stood slowly, making sure not to wake Sam, and followed Dave past the rest of the seats into the next car.

"What's up?" she asked as they took a seat on a small couch facing the window. It was still too dark to see anything properly, though the sky was beginning to fade from black into a dim purple-blue, and the large pane of glass reflected their faces back at them as they looked out at the passing landscape.

"I need advice," Dave said. "Kurt said you could help."

"I'll do my best," Quinn said. "What is it?"

Dave pulled out his wallet and opened it to retrieve the creased and wrinkled letter he'd been carrying around in it for the better part of two weeks. "Probably better for you to just read it," he said. Quinn took it from him and unfolded it, and as she read silently Dave mentally read it along with her, having long since memorized the words on the page.

Dear Dave,

This is a hard letter to write to you. Since the night you left not a day has gone by
that you haven't been in our prayers. We've prayed for your redemption, for your
return to Christ, and for God to show you the true path once again. It has been
our fervent hope that someday you might see the error of your ways and come
home to us, our prodigal son who has repented and learned his lesson.

That is what we've prayed for. Now we simply pray for you to come home. It's
a difficult thing, reconciling our faith with our family, and your father and I have
a long way to go. However, we are trying. The Church teaches us that to be
homosexual is to sin, and it's a belief that your father and I have never questioned.
And yet, we have heard from other sources, including the minister at that liberal
church, St. Simon's, that it is not a choice, but how people are born. If that is the
case, then it is cause to wonder, as the Church also teaches that God, in His infinite
wisdom, makes no mistakes.

We are struggling with this, Dave, and we can't simply shed the teachings of a
lifetime just because we want to believe that there is nothing wrong with your
lifestyle. But we do love you. Your father acknowledges that he may have been
wrong to react as he did on Christmas Eve toward the son of the man who has
taken you into his home, and, if given a chance, he would apologize to him.
Although we would prefer it if you stopped being gay and became heterosexual
again, it isn't a condition that we will set for your return to our home. There isn't
a time limit on answering us, either, as we know that you no doubt feel hurt
by our actions. Just know that we want you home.

With love,

Mom and Dad

"Oh, wow," Quinn said as she folded the letter back up, looking infinitely more awake. "That's – wow."

"Kinda sums it up, yeah," Dave said. "So? Why'd Kurt tell me to talk to you?"

"You don't know?" Quinn asked. Dave shook his head. "My parents threw me out last year when they found out I was pregnant. Well, my dad threw me out. Mom stood by and let it happen."

"That sucks," Dave said. "I'm sorry. So what happened? I thought you were back living with your parents again."

"I'm living with my mom," Quinn said. "She divorced my dad and came to Regionals to apologize to me and asked me to come back home."

"And everything's okay?" Dave asked.

"No," Quinn said. "I love her, and I'm glad she came and apologized and that I'm not living with Finn or Puck or Mercedes anymore, but our relationship is still pretty rocky. She's working on making it up to me, and I'm working on forgiving her, but I won't ever forget that it happened, and I think a part of me will always be angry that she let me down when I needed her the most."

"So it's not worth it," Dave said.

Quinn met his eyes in their shadowy reflections. "I didn't say that. It was totally worth it for me. She's still my mother, after all, and God asks us to forgive those who sin against us. I'm trying to live up to that, and the only way I can do it is to give her a chance."

"So you're still a Christian, then?" Dave asked.

"I'm still Catholic," Quinn said. "Despite everything that's happened. I don't hold anyone's lack of faith against them – Kurt is a good friend of mine, and he's an atheist – but my faith is important to me."

Dave hesitated a moment, then asked, "Don't take this the wrong way, but isn't the Catholic Church down on gays like my parents' church is?"

"Completely," Quinn said. "All the way up to reinterpreting Scripture to say that angels, who are supposed to be beautiful, genderless beings, are male so as to claim that Sodom was destroyed because the men of the city wanted gay sex, conveniently forgetting that the 'good man' of the story offered up his two virgin daughters for them to rape in the angels' place."

"Sounds like you don't agree with that," Dave said.

Quinn smiled. "I don't. And not agreeing with it doesn't interfere with my faith. When I was living with Puck last year, his mother told me something that stuck with me. She said that God encourages us to ask questions, so that we can become better believers by coming to the answers on our own. And my answer to that particular question is that there is no good reason to believe that someone is a sinner simply because of who they love."

"That's pretty cool," Dave said. "I'm still trying to figure out what I believe. I know I'm never going back to St. Paul's. I'm done with listening to people tell me that I'm going to burn in hell. Sometimes I wonder if it's even worth believing in anything at all, especially when there's the kind of crap there is in the Bible, you know?"

"I know," Quinn said. "To be honest, I mostly stick with reading the New Testament these days, though I stop before I reach Romans."

"Romans, Ezekiel, Leviticus, Corinthians, Genesis," Dave rattled off. "Can't read them without wanting to give up and try Buddhism."

"That's a choice that's entirely up to you," Quinn said. "The same goes for your parents' letter. No one would blame you if you blew it off and gave them the metaphorical finger. They wronged you badly. But if you do want my advice, I'd suggest reaching out. You don't have to go running back into their arms; you could just go visit them and see how you feel then. You could even bring friends if you wanted the support. Any of us would go with you, you know that."

"Yeah, but –" Dave pointed to the letter still clutched in her hand. "They used that damn buzzword. 'Lifestyle.' And 'may have been wrong?' If looks could kill, Kurt would've been six feet under. And they still want me to be straight – they actually put it like I'd been straight and could go back to being that way, but they wouldn't force me to."

"I suppose it's my turn to say this," Quinn said. "Don't take this the wrong way, but considering their starting point, this is huge. They're actually trying to get over everything they've learned in church about homosexuality for you. They're as conservative as my dad, and they're trying because they love you."

"I'd find it easier to believe they love me if they hadn't kicked me out in the first place," Dave said.

"People do horrible, awful, terrible things to each other," Quinn said. "And they do the worst to the ones they love because they take it for granted that their loved ones will always be around to make amends to. My mom stood by and let my dad kick me out of our home when I needed their support the most, and I don't doubt for a moment that she loves me."

"I don't know if I can do it," Dave said. "They say they know I feel hurt, but it goes way beyond that. I mean, I'm their son, and they didn't even hesitate to choose their faith over me."

"Well, as Finn would say, we'll back your play," Quinn said. She handed back the letter and patted his knee. "Just think about it, okay?"

Dave sighed and stretched his legs out, taking in the sight of the passing buildings as the sky began to lighten further. "I can do that."

"Good," Quinn said, sounding satisfied. "Hey, I don't think I'm going to get back to sleep. Do you want me to get you coffee in the food car, too?"

"I'll go with you," Dave said. He tucked the letter back into his wallet and stood, offering Quinn a hand up. "I told Kurt I'd bring him breakfast in a couple hours, anyway – might as well get it now so I don't have to go down there again."

"I'd like the company," Quinn said, getting to her feet. "We should get Mike and Tina out here, too. I'm sure they're bored of being surrounded by sleeping people."

"Think we could run through our numbers in here?" Dave asked. "Very, very quietly?"

"That would be fun," Quinn said as she and Dave headed to the car up ahead to get coffee and breakfast. "I can take Rachel's part in your duet, if you want."

"Not gonna turn down an offer like that," Dave said.

Quinn smiled up at him and sang softly, "There's nothin' wrong with lovin' who you are, 'cause he made you perfect, babe."

"Makes me think of their letter," Dave said. "They wrote it right there. And I'm pretty sure they think Lady Gaga is in league with the devil, so it's a funny coincidence."

She laughed, startled, and grabbed his arm. "You're right, they did, didn't they? 'God makes no mistakes.'"

"I'm on the right track, baby," he told her solemnly. "I was born this way."

Quinn had to slap her hand over her mouth to prevent her giggles from waking the sleeping passengers they were passing by, and Dave, feeling infinitely lighter, led the way to the food car, quoting lyrics as they went.

TEAOMAL

The train pulled in to Penn Station at around nine thirty that night, and as they all disembarked they waved and called out friendly goodbyes to the travelers they'd become acquainted with through their impromptu rehearsal in the viewing car. Despite the fact that it was meant to be a quiet space, Rachel and Quinn had sweet-talked the attendants into letting them practice there, promising to keep things relatively quiet so as not to disturb passengers in adjoining cars. They'd attracted a small audience nonetheless, and they'd all clapped enthusiastically as they ran through their set list, which started out on the mellow note of Ben Lee's "We Are All In This Together" and ended on a triumphant rendition of Lady Gaga's "Born This Way." Santana had gone all out growling out the lyrics of "History Repeating" by the Propellerheads, and Quinn and Sam had killed their duet in Ben Folds' "You Don't Know Me."

"How much do you want to bet someone took a video of it and is going to post it on YouTube?" Sam asked, hefting his bag over his shoulder as they made their way up the stairs to the city street above the station.

"It's hardly worth betting on," Kurt said. "Anything remotely interesting ends up on the internet these days."

"I'd bet ten bucks and an honest attempt to get me inside the Museum of Sex on Sunday that it has a hundred hits by tomorrow," Santana said.

"There's a Museum of Sex?" Puck asked, intrigued.

"That's what I hear," she said. "They have some kind of burlesque exhibit up right now that I'd love to see."

"I hate to break it to you," Leroy Berry (whose name Dave had finally gotten straight after breakfast), "But it's strictly eighteen and over, and they check IDs at the door."

"Daddy," Rachel said, "Please never even obliquely refer to having a sex life while I'm within earshot again. The thought of parental sex is traumatizing."

"You'll survive," Leroy said cheerfully. "And don't worry, we'll pay for your therapy sessions should trauma actually occur."

"Whoa," Finn said as they reached the top of the stairs and exited onto the street. "That's one big city."

The first thing that struck Dave was the sheer size of everything: the buildings, the streets, the lights – they all seemed larger than life. The next thing that hit him was the traffic, both pedestrian and vehicular. It was half past nine at night, and the city was still buzzing with energy. "Fuck me," he said blankly, staring up at the immense buildings around them. "This place is huge."

"Language," Carole and Mr. Schuester chorused, and at the same time Santana said lewdly, "Well, if you ask Kurt real nice, I'm sure he'd oblige."

"Santana!" Kurt shrieked, beet red. "God!"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Jesus, loosen up already."

"I'm going to be very nice and assume that it's sleep deprivation that's making you talk like that to my stepson and his boyfriend," Carole said. "Come on, kids. Let's go meet Hiram and Artie at the elevators."

When they'd all met up again, they went out to the sidewalk to flag down large taxis that could take more passengers at once. One was idling at the curb, and Mr. Schuester issued quick orders to their group. "Alright, guys. Mercedes, Puck, Santana, Brittany, and Artie, you'll go with me in the first cab. Hiram, Leroy, you'll take Rachel, Dave, Kurt, and Quinn. Carole, you have Finn, Sam, Tina and Mike – take one of the regular cabs to the hotel. We'll all meet up in the lobby and work out room assignments there."

"Sounds like a plan," Hiram said, and their assigned group stood back to let the first two get into the cabs unimpeded.

After they'd taken off, Leroy turned to Hiram and said, "You're on taxi flagging duty." Hiram nodded and went to stand closer to the street to watch for passing taxi vans.

"Why is Hiram the one flagging down the cab?" Kurt asked curiously.

Leroy sighed slightly and said in a matter-of fact-tone, "It's quite difficult for a black man to get a taxi to pick him up in New York, even in broad daylight wearing a business suit. At night, dressed for comfort, it would be nearly impossible. It's simply easier to have Hiram take care of it."

"Oh," Kurt said. "That's awful."

"Yes it is," Leroy said. "But on to happier topics. Are you excited to be in New York?"

"Very," Quinn said with a bright smile.

"I'm a step away from going into throes of rapture," Kurt said, eyes shining.

"You're going to love it," Rachel said. "There are so many incredible things we absolutely have to do on Sunday. You're not getting out of it – I'm going to show you the city myself."

"Only for a few hours," Kurt said. He gave Dave a secretive smile. "I've already made plans for Sunday."

"I want to know," Dave said.

"You'll find out later," Kurt said.

A piercing whistle split the air, and they all looked over to see Hiram waving and standing next to one of the yellow and black vans. "Looks like we have a ride," Leroy said. "Come on, kids. Let's get a move on."

They all piled into the van, holding their bags on their laps to preserve what precious little foot room they had. "Queens," Hiram said to the driver. "Howard Johnson Express Inn."

"Not a problem," their driver said, deep brown skin crinkling around his dark eyes as he smiled at them through the rearview mirror. "I'll get you there quick so you can get some sleep, okay?"

"Okay!" Rachel said happily.

He pulled away from the curb and took of down the street. "So where are you from?"

"Ohio," Dave said. "We're here for a singing competition."

"Singing and dancing," Rachel amended.

"Cool, cool," the driver said. "You think you'll win?"

"We hope so," Kurt said.

"I'll be cheering for you to win, then," the driver said.

"Thank you," Quinn said sincerely. "We appreciate it."

Their driver grinned. "My pleasure, rooting for nice kids like you."

They arrived at the hotel quicker than Dave had thought it would take given the size of the city, and as they got out of the van their driver – whose name, they'd learned, was Marcus – gave them a friendly goodbye and wished them luck once again. In the hotel lobby, Mr. Schuester and Carole were waiting with key cards, having apparently already sent the others up to their rooms for the night.

"Kurt, you're rooming with Mike," Mr. Schuester said, handing him his key card. "Dave, we've put you with Finn. Quinn, you're with Santana, and Rachel, you're rooming with Mercedes. Your room numbers are on your card envelopes. You're all on the third floor. Go up and get some sleep, guys. We have a long day tomorrow."

The four of them made a beeline for the elevator, not bothering to wait for their chaperones.

"I want to sleep for a week," Kurt groaned as they stepped into the elevator.

"You can't do that," Rachel said, pushing the button for the third floor. "If you do, you'll miss Nationals, and if you miss Nationals, we'll be down a member and that might be all it takes to end up in last place, and then we'll all go home in disgrace."

"Overreacting much?" Quinn said.

"Show choir is serious business," Rachel declared. "We're so close to victory I can almost taste it, and I won't let the lure of a comfortable bed take that away from me."

"Rachel, I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you're insane," Kurt said. "Get some sleep."

"You'll thank me someday," Rachel said. The elevator stopped and they all got out.

"That someday is not tonight," Kurt said. "Goodnight, all." He caught Dave by the back of his neck and gave him a quick kiss. "See you in the morning."

"Night," Dave said, waving at Kurt's back as he walked away. He checked the room number on his card. "Looks like I'm right there," he said, pointing to the nearest door. "See you tomorrow."

"Good night," Rachel and Quinn said.

He let himself in quietly, breathing a silent sigh of relief when he opened the door onto a dark room. Finn's already out. Good. He kicked off his shoes and stripped down to his tee-shirt and boxers, falling into bed without bothering to brush his teeth. Tomorrow's gonna be interesting, he thought, and then he didn't think much at all as he slipped into sleep.

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